


Gold & Green

by yours_eternally



Series: AUgust 2020 Prompts [3]
Category: Motionless in White (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Frottage, Going to Hell, Hand Jobs, Hell, M/M, Religion, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:07:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25687816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yours_eternally/pseuds/yours_eternally
Summary: ‘Don’t get cute with this shit, Ricky,’ Chris grunts, ‘I don’t want you to get hurt.’ Ricky sighs, letting his fingertips brush the back of Chris’ hand. His skin is burning, as always. Chris said it was a remnant and Ricky had never understood what he meant by that. Chris exhales, turning his hand over fingers briefly curling around Ricky’s and then letting them slide through like water.One evening Ricky pays a furtive visit to an acquaintance of his with an item he may be very interested in acquiring. But Chris is more than a broker for stolen goods (and Ricky hopes more than an acquaintance), and Ricky’s more aware than most a trip to visit Chris could very easily become a one way journey.
Relationships: Chris "Motionless" Cerulli/Ricky "Horror" Olson
Series: AUgust 2020 Prompts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859290
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14
Collections: AUgust 2020





	Gold & Green

Ricky waits, back pressed against the wall behind him, for a group large enough that he can pass through the gate unnoticed. Because he’s smuggling more than an immortal soul into _Pandæmonium_ tonight. He flicks his cigarette and starts walking, easing up on his pace once he is close enough for no one to glance at him twice. He’s got his hood up and his hands sunk deep in his pockets; who’s to say he’d doesn’t have horns and claws? 

Luck is with him tonight; a valet for one of the Princes is noisily returning with at least a legion, so no one is bored enough to spot one mortal slipping through in their ranks. Ricky can’t help but glance up at the _Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate_ carved in the arch as he passes beneath, wondering, as he always does, if this will be for the last time. 

When the group Ricky’s tagging along with reach the central plaza, he ducks off the the right into the rough structures that surround the outer edge of the capital. The smell of sulphur is stronger here than it is on the streets of the city, sticking to the back of Ricky’s throat as he walks quickly through the haphazard buildings. The unchanging bloody light casts eerie shadows putting Ricky on edge. 

The Damned of all kinds wash up here and the black market is beyond compare, which Ricky guesses makes sense. All manner of items and services are on offer, if you’re willing to pay the price. And this is the reason Ricky’s here this evening. 

The object he has strapped to his ribs is cold now, icy though the air around him is burning. He’s not sure if that’s a good or a bad sign. 

Ricky crosses another open area — it looks like there's been a fire — not an uncommon occurrence considering where they are. He’s here to see Chris; his long-time fence. They’d met when Chris had saved his life (a deal gone badly wrong) and had been business associated ever since. No small advantage to Ricky because Chris had contacts “upstairs”. Besides, Chris is smoking hot and Ricky has no problems mixing business with pleasure. 

Ricky pauses, staying back, as a lone succubus slinks down the passage ahead of him. Ricky’s fairly certain he’s immune but tonight is not the time he wants to test that theory. Once she’s gone Ricky marches down the passage and down another until he’s at the door of Chris’ place. 

‘Be with you in a minute!’ comes a call from the back as Ricky slips into the room, it’s small with a hard packed earth floor covered by mismatched rugs. He closes the door behind him, snapping closed the string of padlocks and deadbolts Chris has set up, along with some less corporal deterrents, to keep his home secure. 

When he’s satisfied, Ricky takes a seat, shrugging off his jacket with relief and pulling up his t-shirt to start unwinding the fabric from his torso. Chris clatters in holding what looks like a string of twisted metal and stops when he sees it’s Ricky. 

‘It’s not the end of the month,’ he says, eyes sliding over Ricky, resuming what he was doing before. He’s got his hair back and he’s shirtless and wearing a leather apron, shiny with long use, and when he turns Ricky can see the two rows of stumps on his back. There’s six in total. 

Ricky drops his eyes, he knows better than to stare. In the time Ricky’s known him, Chris had never tried to cover or excuse them. Ricky's asked, more than once. But Chris, unsurprisingly, isn't keen to discuss it. Ricky unfurls the rest of the fabric from around his waist and pulls the leather wallet into his lap. 

‘I got something,’ Ricky says unfolding the packet. Ricky hovers his hand over metal, feeling the cold emanating off the surface and decides it’s probably too cold to touch without losing his fingerprints. 

‘Yeah?’ Chris says, rearranging the metal on his workbench. 

‘Don’t you wanna see?’ Ricky says, grinning at his back. Chris glances over his shoulder to grin back at him. Then he goes still. 

‘It’s cold,’ Ricky says, moving the packet off his lap and onto the floor in front of him. Chris moves closer, coming to crouch on the other side.

‘What have you got?’ Chris mutters, fingers brushing the leather pouch.

‘Holy nail,’ says Ricky, grinning, ‘I’m _assured_. Anyway it fucked up all my instruments, so I thought it might be something.’ 

‘It’s something,’ Chris says, picking up the shard of metal without concern and turning it over. Then his eyes move to Ricky’s face. ‘How’d you get it through the gate?’

‘It wasn't hard,’ Ricky shrugs, ‘Belial’s guy took an entire legion to get take-out, for fuck’s sake, so I just followed them back through.’ Chris shakes his head. 

‘You’re too reckless, Rick,’ he says, exhaling heavily, ‘you know what they’d do to you if they found you with a relic?’

‘Nothing,’ Ricky snorts, ‘—it’s not real.’

‘Yeah? You know that?’ Chris says and Ricky frowns at him. 

‘Are you telling me it _is_ real?’ he scoffs, staring at the nail in Chris’ hand. 

‘I’m saying I can’t tell,’ Chris says quietly, ‘and if I can’t tell it’s definitely enough to make Belial lose his shit and then some.’ 

‘Okay,’ Ricky says, sobering, reaching to fold the leather around it again, ‘I’ll get rid of it.’ 

‘No way,’ Chris says, flicking his hands off and picking the nail up, ‘you’re not taking it out of here, I can’t believe you didn't get caught bringing it in.’

‘Maybe it’s a miracle,’ Ricky says, biting his lip to stop himself smiling. 

‘Don’t get cute with this shit, Ricky,’ Chris grunts, ‘I don’t want you to get hurt.’ Ricky sighs, letting his fingertips brush the back of Chris’ hand. His skin is burning, as always. Chris said it was a remnant and Ricky had never understood what he meant by that. Chris exhales, turning his hand over fingers briefly curling around Ricky’s and then letting them slide through like water. 

‘We could try again,’ Ricky suggests but Chris straightens stiffly and disappears into the back with the leather wallet. 

‘I don’t want you to get hurt,’ he says again, with his back to Ricky. Ricky groans, frustrated. 

‘Tell me what happened to you,’ Ricky says suddenly, standing as well when Chris comes back into the room. It’s not like Ricky can’t guess, knowing what he knows about Chris, but he wants to goad Chris into a response of some kind. Chris frowns at him. ‘—with your back. Tell me what happened.’ 

‘No,’ Chris says, expression rigid. 

‘C’mon,’ Ricky snaps, his eyes on the other, ‘if you’re not going to fuck me, at least talk to me.’ 

‘I’m not doing either,’ Chris says, hands on his hips, ‘ —you need to go. I’ll give your cut when I’ve sold it— _if_ I can without incurring the Wrath of God.’ Ricky’s not sure he’s joking. 

‘I don’t give a fuck about the nail,’ Ricky says, flicking Chris off, ‘you have to give me something, Chris. _Tell_ me something.’ Chris' expression hardens but then he lets out a breath, shoulders dropping. 

‘I lost my wings when I fell, that's how it works,’ he says, eyes on the floor. 

‘How?’ Ricky asks. Chris doesn’t speak for so long Ricky thinks he’s not going to answer. 

‘They cut them off.’ Chris says quietly. Ricky feels his stomach twist. That sounded… painful. 

‘Why’s your skin always hot?’ he asks, less confident in his plan to shock Chris into talking to him now. 

‘Divine fire.’ Chris answers, in the same clipped tone, to Ricky’s surprise. This was the most information he’d got out of him in nearly a decade. 

‘But you said you fell?’ Ricky asks. 

‘It’s not something that goes out,’ Chris mutters. 

‘Is that why you won’t…?’ he gestures to the space between them. Chris bites his lips, folding his arms across his chest. 

‘Partly,’ he says at last. 

‘And what about the other parts?’ Ricky says, taking a tentative step closer. ‘The parts that want to?’ 

‘ _Rick_ —’ he mumbles but doesn’t pull away when Ricky puts his hands on his chest and pushes up on the balls of his feet to kiss him. His lips are hot as a brand. Chris lifts his hands to cup his head, fingers twisting in his loose hair. Ricky moans and Chris makes a soft noise in response. His hands slip to Ricky’s shoulders pushing him back. 

He groans deeply, letting his head drop to Ricky’s shoulder. Ricky reaches to stroke a hand down the back of his neck, fingertips tingling. Chris’ hands are on his waist now, hot through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. Ricky hums, pulling one of Chris’ hands onto his back so he’ll fit his arms around him. 

‘Kiss me,’ he says, ‘kiss me, it’s okay.’ Chris groans again but raises his head and starts kissing him again, all lips and tongue and teeth. Ricky holds his head, arms slipping around Chris’ neck as he lifts him off his feet and sets him down on the pile of cushions on the other side of the door. As Ricky watches he pulls the leather apron over his head, revealing that he’s wearing faded black sweats beneath, that look so incongruous with the setting Ricky almost snorts.

Chris bends to kiss him, not breaking away as he moves to lie between Ricky’s thighs. 

Ricky gasps as Chris settles his weight on him, mouth still on his. Ricky runs his hands over his shoulders down his back, forgetting until he brushes over the rough skin of the scar tissue and goes rigid.

‘Sorry,’ he gasps out, ‘I forgot—’

‘It’s okay,’ Chris says, kissing his cheek then down his neck, ‘you can touch, it doesn’t hurt.’ Ricky nods, surprised. He lets his fingertips touch the rough skin again, feeling what must be bone underneath. Chris shivers, pressing his head tighter into Ricky’s neck. 

Ricky lets his hand stroke further down Chris’ back, feeling the next notch in his mid back. Chris mumbles against his collarbone as Ricky traces over his skin, feeling the muscles and sinew and bone. Chris shifts again and Ricky can feel Chris’ cock, where their clothes are rucked up between them. Ricky feels a flush creeping under his skin as he realises Chris is hard. 

‘You like that?’ he can’t help asking. Chris mumbles again. 

‘Yeah,’ he admits, ‘it’s… sensitive.’ 

‘Okay,’ Ricky says, kissing the side of his mouth and letting his fingertips trail over Chris’ back. Chris wriggles and shifts against him and Ricky lifts his hips a little, hoping Chris will push into him more. Ricky puts one hand on Chris’ hip, pulling at the elastic of his waistband. Chris shifts and then shifts again as Ricky strokes his back. He lets Ricky pull his sweats down his hips until Ricky can close a hand around his cock. 

‘Okay?’ Ricky asks, kissing his cheek, and Chris nods. Ricky can feel burning hands pulling at his clothes, popping the button on his jeans and dragging down the zip so he can fit a hand around Ricky as well. Ricky gasps. Chris’ hand is so hot on his skin it’s almost unbearable but then Chris starts to stroke him and his thoughts dissolve into a thousand shards. 

He moans, starting to clumsily stroke Chris back. His other hand is still tight on Chris’ waist and when Chris starts to kiss his mouth again his hand clamps tight, nails digging into his skin. Chris is heavy, laying on top of him, hips twitching down into his hand. It’s difficult to keep in sync and Chris keeps twisting his wrist in a way that’s so perfect it distracts Ricky from what he’s doing and he has to take a moment to pant into Chris neck.

He groans as Chris presses his teeth to his jaw, still rubbing him. Ricky gasps, feel his cock pulsing from the heat of Chris’ hands, and mouth and body. He can feel electricity sparking along his limbs, beneath his skin, spiralling outwards leaving Ricky quivering and so close it’s almost painful. Ricky can feel his gut pulled tight from Chris’ kisses and his burning hands, and the delicious roll on his hips. Ricky gasps, hand closing tight on the back of Chris’ neck, his back arching as he fucks himself into Chris' hand. For a moment everything seems to go silent and then Ricky feels his body snap taut as he comes, gasping in air as Chris works him through it. 

Ricky squirms and Chris lets him go carefully, making to get up but Ricky tightens the hand on the back of his neck, fumbling his other hand back onto his cock. He can see Chris’ eyelashes flutter as he starts to stroke him. He pants into his mouth, still shivering with aftershocks.

Chris makes a tight, desperate noise. Ricky lets his hand move down from Chris’ neck to touch the scarring on his back, touching the lowest just above his waist this time. Chris makes another noise and Ricky can feel his hips thrusting irresistibly into his palm. 

‘Rick, I—’ he mumbles into Ricky’s neck. 

‘It’s okay,’ Ricky tells him, gingerly rubbing his back as his cock slides sweat-slick in his fist. Chris moans, pressing his face into Ricky’s shoulder. Ricky shushes him, pressing into him harder. Chris whines then arches, going still giving hiccuping gasps, and Ricky can feel him come, cock throbbing in his hand. 

Still gasping his breath back, Chris rolls off him turning so he’s on his side on the floor beside him. He hums, brushing his knuckles against Ricky’s cheek. Ricky smiles at him. With his cock less of a distraction, everything Chris had told him before was resurfacing and he can feel a cold knot forming in his gut.

‘Was all that stuff you said before true?’ he asks, pushing himself up on the cushions. 

‘Yeah,’ Chris says shrugging as he gets up, pulling up his sweats and wiping his hand down them. He disappears out of the room coming back with a wet washcloth for Ricky. 

‘Thanks,’ Ricky says, cleaning himself up as Chris watches him with a weird intensity. ‘Are you okay?’ Ricky asks him at last. 

‘Mm,’ Chris says, folding his arms. ‘—you’re not hurt? Burned?’ he says after another painful pause, as though he’s forcing himself to speak. Ricky shakes his head, showing his hands as though that proves it. Chris takes his hand one at a time one inspecting them. 

‘Good,’ he says, releasing him. Ricky smiles at him again, feeling the warmth of Chris’ concern like a physical touch. There’s a thump on the door and both their heads snap around. Ricky feels his heart skip. Though not strictly speaking forbidden, any mortal found within the walls of the city (or just outside them) would be treated less than gently.

‘Go through the back,’ Chris grunts, when they hear the garbled command to open the door, pulling Ricky over to the door to the back room. Before he lets him go through it, Chris catches his shoulders and holds him still for a moment. Chris lets him go, nodding. 

‘What did you do?’ Ricky asks, as Chris pushes him towards the exit. 

‘It should help you go unseen,’ Chris mutters, ‘—whatever grace I have left. Now go, _go_.’

Ricky lets Chris hustle him out, kissing him on the lips once more before closing the door with a snap. Ricky smiles, touching his lips, but he hears voices inside and turns quickly. 

He walks fast, weaving through the maze of temporary structures towards the main thoroughfare and the way back. He pulls up his hood and sinks his hands into his pockets, slipping into the crowds heading towards their evening reveals, waiting for the perfect moment to slip through the gate and back into the upper world.

**Author's Note:**

> Can't tell you how close Chris came to being a wheel with a billion eyes..
> 
> Also, I have "Lore" for this one 😅 — _Pandæmonium_ is the capital of Hell in Milton's _Paradise Lost_ and _Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate_ is the last line of the stanza Dante mentions is above the gates of Hell.. the "abandon all hope" bit, naturally. Chris is meant to be an ex-Seraphim, which have six wings and are, like, constantly on fire..
> 
> [xyours-eternallyx](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/xyours-eternallyx) on tumblr 🙌


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